Cal State Fullerton isn't considered a great athletic school, but it has a rich baseball history. Current Texas manager Augie Garrido led the Titans to national prominence over 19 years, in two stints (with an ill-advised departure for Illinois in between), piling up 875 victories and three national titles (1979, 1984 and 1995), for a school that has but one other Division I national championship (Division I women's softball, plus 7 lower division titles in cross country and fencing). Since Garrido left for Austin, replacement George Horton has taken Fullerton to four CWS appearances in eight years.

So it shouldn't have shocked people when Fullerton won the College World Series, but it did. The Register reported today about how a woman at the players' gate at Rosenblatt Stadium showed her surprise that Cal State Fullerton had taken the first game of the finals against mighty Texas. "Well, you guys are sure making it interesting," she said. "Yes, and thanks for letting us play in your tournament," retorted one of the Titans. By the end of the day, Fullerton had won its fourth College World Series title -- and for the second time, it had come at the expense of the Longhorns.

I really do dig Fullerton baseball. Since graduating from Cal State Fullerton in 1988 and moving on to USC for law school, I have never once rooted against my Trojans in any event in any kind, with one exception. In 1995, I cheered for Fullerton against USC in the CWS. After all, USC already had 11 (now it's 12) titles.

In 1984, my first year on campus, Cal State Fullerton was the defending national champion in baseball, having beaten Texas, of course. Our football team, which no longer exists, ran up a 10-0 record and spent a week nationally ranked before losing to UNLV. The basketball team was six years removed from its amazing trip to the NCAA regional finals, as "Cal State Who?", but Leon Wood had just lead the US Olympic team to a gold medal in Los Angeles, and had been drafted tenth in what turned out to be the best NBA draft ever. (Wood is now an NBA referee.) Cal State athletics was surprisingly good. In the OC, where the Angels typically would suck for four or five years before teasing their fans with the occasional "almost great" year, Cal State Fullerton baseball was the best spectator sport in the county. Unlike the Angels, the Titans didn't let you down. When they had a great team, they could actually win a title. In five CWS finals, the Titans have come away with four championships.

This year's team was pretty special. They were just 15-16 in early April (the Titans have never finished with a losing record), when they caught fire shortly after losing two games to Texas. The embarrassing losses to former Titan Garrido seemed to hit the players' price. Garrido told Horton (who was a first baseman for Garrido’s first Division I team in 1975) he'd see him in Omaha, to which Horton responded, "I'll be watching on TV." The team took it personally, it appears, and simply stopped playing imperfect baseball. They finished the rest of the season 32-6 with a 2.80 team ERA.

Senior righthander Jason Windsor was awesome. He finished the season 13-4 with a 1.72 ERA (third best in Titan history), but, more amazingly, after losing 4 out of his first 5 games, Windsor finished 12-0 with a 0.83 ERA and nine complete games in his last twelve starts. In the postseason, Windsor went 5-0, giving up just 3 runs. In the CWS, he pitched two complete games and threw a few scoreless relief innings in between.

Sunday's game was incredible. To get there, 4th ranked Fullerton had to win four elimination games, and had to knock off the top three ranked teams -- No. 1 Miami, No. 2 Texas (which had the top seed) and No. 3 South Carolina (twice).

The drama of Horton opposing the master Garrido played out well in the seventh inning, when Garrido made a pitching change in response to Horton's move to have Sergio Pedroza pinch hit for Neil Walton. Leading 2-0, Garrido brought in lefty Buck Cody to relieve starting pitcher Sam LeCure. Horton then called Pedroza back to the dugout and sent righthander Brett Pill to the plate. Garrido looked over at Horton and jokingly accused him of cheating. ("It's not that I out-coached him or out-tricked him," Horton later said, modestly.) The TV cameras caught Horton looking back at Garrido, crossing his forearms and laughing. Pill promptly ripped a triple down the left field line and a wild pitch later, the game was tied. Not long after, All-American catcher Kurt Suzuki stepped up with the winning run in scoring position. Suzuki, who had taken a deflected pitch in the jimmies earlier in the game (you didn't see that in USA Today), was batting about .100 in the CWS, but he came through with a clutch single and what turned out to be the game-winning RBI.

If you love baseball, you had to love that game. I was screaming my head off, of course, and lamenting my decision not to fly to Nebraska to see the game. I'm guessing that everyone down at the Off Campus Pub was going nuts, too. So much for not messin' with Texas.

Numerologists might be amused to note that this was Fullerton's 13th consecutive NCAA appearance, resulting in its 13th CWS appearance, which it qualified for on June 13. The Titans stayed at a hotel 13 miles from Rosenblatt Stadium, on 13th Street in West Omaha. Ricky Romero and Jason Windsor each finished with 13 wins. In Horton’s 13th CWS game as a head coach, Fullerton snapped Miami’s 13-game winning streak, racking up 13 hits in the process.

It turned out to be a good sports year for USC/CSUF alumni. The Lakers? What Lakers?

June 27, 2004

The New York Daily News is reporting that the valedictorian of a Brooklyn high school was escorted out of the building and denied her diploma on Friday because she criticized the school in a graduation speech. Tiffany Schley cannot have her diploma until she apologizes, say school officials.

Here's a curious bit of irony: the school is called the "High School of Legal Studies." I guess they began studying the law with the most recent ones and worked their way backward. Because they obviously haven't been to the First Amendment yet. You simply cannot withhold a diploma because a student criticizes the school. It is outrageous and illegal to even try.

The government has no business punishing a speaker for content-based speech, particularly when that content addresses a grievance about the conduct and performance of government. Yet, here, in a public forum, a speaker chose content which critical of a governmental agency and she is being punished for it.

And mind you, this is not just some moron saying "teachers suck ass." This is a valedictorian, editor of the school newspaper, yearbook chairwoman and a member of the student council raising valid issues, including: four principals in four years, overcrowded classes, a shortage of textbooks and other basic materials, unqualified teachers, unstable staffing and uncaring administrators who refused to meet with students to discuss the school's problems.

One teacher interviewed for the story said that the speech shocked the audience, but that the students supported Schley. Others disagreed. Education Department mouthpiece Stephen Morello offered this statement: "We feel that her schoolmates are deserving of an apology. It was a celebratory day for all of them."

That's great that you feel that way, Steve. And if you want to wag your finger and disagree strongly, feel free to do so. But withholding graduation? The school has no right to mete out this sort of content-based punishment for speech. I just wish this had happened in California so that I could represent this girl for free and sue the pants off those school officials.

If you agree with me, you may be interested to know that the principal's name is Albert Vazquez, and his telephone number is (718) 387-2800. The local superintendent's name is Jean Claud Brizard. His telephone number is (718) 935-3667. Give them a call if you have the time, and tell them what you think.

I bang out most of these thoughts during slow moments in my day. I usually write them down in my Palm Pilot and hotsync them to the computer when I get home. Then I paste and post.

I also collect odd links and data throughout the week in that spare time (wireless Palm Pilots are among the greatest technological innovations ever) and pile them up on the weekend in what is, invariably, my longest post of the week.

Rarely do I find something that I'm eager to link to at the moment I first see it. For some reason, the Gematriculator, which the vidiot found before I did, struck my fancy.

I submitted by web journal for evaluation. It reviewed the text and concluded that I am double digits more evil that the vidiot.

The converse, of course, is that

I can live with that.

Especially since being really good, say, 96% good, makes you Michael Moore, the only one whose site I tested that scored a higher "good" score than al Jazeera's english language page. I ran a few other sites:

I am curious about what criteria they use in reaching these conclusions.

If any blogger would like the reference to their page removed from this post, let me know. If the Michael Moore, the KKK or al Jazeera want to be omitted, it's just too damned bad. (I can almost hear myself slipping to 42% evil.)

I know it is easy to sit here in California and second guess the conduct of people in Iraq who are kneeling in front of heavily armed men, but I can't help thinking that once you get to the point where the gunmen are filming their triumphant video, but before they asked you to put on the orange jumpsuit, you really need to make a concerted effort to get one of the gunmen. It probably won't work, but it's as good a chance as you are going to get.

What does your phone number spell? My office backline yielded no words at all. "Everything is working fine, this is not a bug. Some numbers just have such odd combinations of letters and/or too many zeroes and ones that they simply do not have good mnemonics. Sorry." At least I got some empathy.

Today in history. June 26. One hundred years ago today, Peter Lorre, American film actor, was born. You can amaze the guy on the next barstool with that one. If you are really, really, really smart, you can adjust the URL to find other dates.

If you click on this link, and if you truly have faith -- I'm talking unwavering faith -- you will get to see the porn that few in the world have been fortunate enough to see. If you lack pure faith, you will be disappointed.

Find out what pragmatic really does mean, before you use it incorrectly on TV. (If you've been on TV recently, and used the term "pragmatic" to describe certain foreign policy decisions, yes, I'm talking to you.)

Learn to build your own pinhole camera. Venus is crossing again in just eight short years.

INDUCE stands for "Inducement Devolves into Unlawful Child Exploitation Act," but it is not primarily about child pornography. In fact, it is barely about anything harmful to children, other than Hatch's apparent desire to lock them up in prison. The act seeks to criminalize any technology that could possibly be used to induce any violation of copyright law. The bill would kill, in America, at least, file-swapping networks like Kazaa and Morpheus. Inducement is defined as anything that "aids, abets, induces, counsels, or procures" a violation. Such conduct can be punished with civil fines and even prison terms. Not short ones, either.

Any person or company making, distributing or selling a product that has dual uses, infringing and not infringing, is liable if they know that someone -- anyone -- is using it to infringe. That would include TiVo, camcorders and VCRs, blank audiotape makers, blank CDs, and, of course, P2P networks. Hatch, of course, would never dream of imposing this sort of liability on, say, gunmakers, even those who sell handguns that tout resistance to fingerprints -- a feature that could never possibly be used for a lawful purpose. But, then again, shootings and killings are not nearly as big a problem in this country as 13-year-old girl downloading the latest crappy Britney Spears song.

The actual text of the proposed law is as follows:

A BILL

To amend title 17, United States Code, and for other purposes
Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled

Section 1. SHORT TITLE

This Act may be cited as the "Inducement Devolves into Unlawful Child Exploitation Act of 2004."

Section 2. INTENTIONAL INDUCEMENT OF COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT

Chapter 5 of title 17, United States Code, is amended by adding to the end of section 501 the following:

(g) Intentional Inducement of Infringement.-Whoever intentionally induces any violation identified in subsection (a) of this section shall be liable as an infringer.

(a) Anyone who violates any of the exclusive rights of the copyright owner as provided by sections 106 through 121 or of the author as provided in section 106A(a), or who imports copies or phonorecords into the United States in violation of section 602, is an infringer of the copyright or right of the author, as the case may be. For purposes of this chapter (other than section 506), any reference to copyright shall be deemed to include the rights conferred by section 106A(a). As used in this subsection, the term ''anyone'' includes any State, any instrumentality of a State, and any officer or employee of a State or instrumentality of a State acting in his or her official capacity. Any State, and any such instrumentality, officer, or employee, shall be subject to the provisions of this title in the same manner and to the same extent as any nongovernmental entity.

(b) The legal or beneficial owner of an exclusive right under a copyright is entitled, subject to the requirements of section 411, to institute an action for any infringement of that particular right committed while he or she is the owner of it. The court may require such owner to serve written notice of the action with a copy of the complaint upon any person shown, by the records of the Copyright Office or otherwise, to have or claim an interest in the copyright, and shall require that such notice be served upon any person whose interest is likely to be affected by a decision in the case. The court may require the joinder, and shall permit the intervention, of any person having or claiming an interest in the copyright.

(c) For any secondary transmission by a cable system that embodies a performance or a display of a work which is actionable as an act of infringement under subsection (c) of section 111, a television broadcast station holding a copyright or other license to transmit or perform the same version of that work shall, for purposes of subsection (b) of this section, be treated as a legal or beneficial owner if such secondary transmission occurs within the local service area of that television station.

(d) For any secondary transmission by a cable system that is actionable as an act of infringement pursuant to section 111(c)(3), the following shall also have standing to sue:

(i) the primary transmitter whose transmission has been altered by the cable system; and

(ii) any broadcast station within whose local service area the secondary transmission occurs.

(e) With respect to any secondary transmission that is made by a satellite carrier of a performance or display of a work embodied in a primary transmission and is actionable as an act of infringement under section 119(a)(5), a network station holding a copyright or other license to transmit or perform the same version of that work shall, for purposes of subsection (b) of this section, be treated as a legal or beneficial owner if such secondary transmission occurs within the local service area of that station.

(f) (1) With respect to any secondary transmission that is made by a satellite carrier of a performance or display of a work embodied in a primary transmission and is actionable as an act of infringement under section 122, a television broadcast station holding a copyright or other license to transmit or perform the same version of that work shall, for purposes of subsection (b) of this section, be treated as a legal or beneficial owner if such secondary transmission occurs within the local market of that station.

(2) A television broadcast station may file a civil action against any satellite carrier that has refused to carry television broadcast signals, as required under section 122(a)(2), to enforce that television broadcast station's rights under section 338(a) of the Communications Act of 1934

(1) In subsection (g), "intentionally induces" means intentionally aids, abets, induces, counsels, or procures, and intent may be shown by acts from which a reasonable person would find intent to induce infringement based upon all relevant information about such acts then reasonably available to the actor, including whether the activity relies on infringement for its commercial viability.

(2) Nothing in this section shall enlarge or diminish the doctrines of vicarious or contributory liability for copyright infringement or require any court to unjustly withhold or impose any secondary liability for copyright infringement.

Author Hunter S. Thompson recently made an ass of himself by comparing the Abu Ghraib prison scandal to Nazi atrocities, and favoring the gas chambers to the naked prisoner games, saying, "Not even the foulest atrocities of Adolf Hitler ever shocked me so badly as these photographs did."

There is no outcry. In fact, John Kerry dug it so much, he invited Thompson to take a limo ride, as noticed by Aaron.

June 24, 2004

I thoroughly enjoyed The Da Vinci Code - a Novel. However, there was a twist at the end which, upon further reflection, appeared to be a huge plot error. Have any of you read the Da Vinci Code? What do you think of the end? And specifically, I'm referring to the twist that I will mention in the comments, so as not to ruin the spoilers for anyone who still wants to read the book.

Six Los Angeles rabbis wrote to Arnold Schwarzenegger this week, suggesting that his proposal to let illegal aliens get driver's permits with a special emblem denoting their immigration status would subject them to "scorn and ethnic discrimination" that harks back to the Nazi holocaust. That pretty much blows my last remaining stereotype of Jewish people. I used to think Jews were all smart. Oops. My bad.

Explain this one to me: If Terry Nichols, convicted of 161 murders, including lots of little children, isn't going to be put to death, how can we possibly justify executing anyone else ever again. Nichols should be fed into a woodchipper, feet first.

A Salaam A'alaykum ["Peace be with you" in Arabic]. As Americans of faith, we express our deep sorrow at abuses committed in Iraqi prisons. We stand in solidarity with all those in Iraq and everywhere who demand justice and human dignity. We condemn the sinful and systemic abuses committed in our name, and pledge to work to right these wrongs. This message was endorsed and paid for by thousands of Americans."

Somehow, I don't think it is going to appease anyone. If anything, I fear it will embolden them to believe that the average American, even [gasp!] the Jewish rabbis, does not stand behind the American soldiers and civilians serving in the Middle East.

I don't hate it, though, as much as I hate those TV ads that say I'm giving money to terrorists because I buy drugs. I don't buy drugs. But, even if I did, if I bought some weed from some dude who grew it in Mendocino County, the terrorists would make jack freaking squat. Now, moonshine, on the other hand, might actually fund the terrorists. But that's okay, because moonshine kills terrorists.

Unbelievable, dude. The internet has finally gone too far. I understand someone sitting in a cubicle, wishing they were surfing a chest or head high tube rather than the World Wide Web. That's cool. I can dig that. But I do not understand someone ripping up the waves, coming ashore, and needing to check their email right there on the sand. That's not cool. I can't dig that.

But if you can, your wish is some geek's command. Intel has come out with an Internet-enabled surfboard, with a touch-screen tablet computer and solar panels on its top surface, protected from the saltwater by a thin sheet of plastic. It has a wi-fi antenna for access to the Web "and even a built-in webcam to capture those special moments at sea," the British weekly New Scientist reports.

This was in my newspaper the other day: "Dear Abby: I am a 16-year old girl and haven't had my period for almost five months. What does that mean?" It means you don't have a clue where to turn for timely advice, little girl.

Somewhere in Germany lives a four-year-old mutant kid with a body that blocks production of a protein called myostatin. The result is that this kid is stronger, and better built, than most adults. I hate my myostatin. I wonder if they can take it out with liposuction.

There has been yet another celebrity (well, sort of) sex tape hitting the Internet. Jenna Lewis, Survivor All-Star, is seen in another "honeymoon" porno tape. Zap2it.com reports that "Fans on 'Survivor' message boards are already saying that they know for sure that the woman in the tape is Jenna because she never stops talking throughout." There is nothing I could possibly add to that to make it any funnier.

June 23, 2004

Sometimes, life is like a ride across a seesaw on a pogo stick. It's like when you're at a store, and you see a big tub of smooth stones, or uncooked pinto beans, and you run your hands through it, and it feels pleasing to the touch -- oh, yeah... smooth little uncooked pinto beans, just slipping through your fingers; it's all good -- and just as a smile starts to sneak across your face, some little kid, with a mustache made of snot, rubs his hand over his nose and then shoves both hands into the tub, looks up at you, and smiles. And suddenly, you feel like Adrian Monk.

You aren't sure whether to rush to the sink to wash your hands, or rush to the toilet to regurgitate. If you're an Olsen twin, it's an easy decision. But for the rest of us, it's a tough call. But wait, if you're going to regurgitate, are you going to make it to the toilet? Do you want to? Will regurgitation be a good thing, or a bad thing? If you splash some on the little snot-nosed kid, will that be a good thing, or a bad thing? You don't know.

Disgorging has its good points and its bad points, like every cloud has a silver lining. You take the good with the bad. Or is it "the bad with the good"? Insert your own cliché here. But don't use this one: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I hate that one. I'm on Atkins. I don't do lemonade. I just curse the lemons. Does that make me a negative person?

I will never be nominated for a PMA (positive mental attitude) award. But if I was handing out nominations, Selemani Ngongwechile would be my first nominee. Ngongwechile's wife was recently mauled to death by a lion. When he found his wife's half-eaten body, Ngongwechile put poison in it, so that when the lion returned to finish its meal, it would be the lion's last. It worked. Selemani Ngongwechile knows how to find the silver lining.

I don't. I ran over a nail yesterday. The nail went straight into the tread and remained lodged there, leaking air very slowly, allowing me to drive to a gas station and have the puncture repaired for just a few bucks. A family member with great positive mental attitude reminded me how lucky I was not to have a blowout. But I tend to focus more upon the bad luck that sent the nail into the tread in the first place.

Then there was the neck thing. I had neck spasms from Thursday to Tuesday. Finally, after two nights in a row on a new orthopedic pillow, the neck was better today. I was thrilled. Then, tonight, a junebug flew into my eye and I instinctively jerked my head back sharply, and boom!, bam!, the neck spasms are back. With headaches, this time. So I'm not sure whether to be furious that my neck is still wrenched, or grateful that my wife scored me a sweet new orthopedic pillow. I'll decide in the morning.

The World Poker Tour had an episode tonight that I hadn't seen before, so I was glued to the set for about two hours. Actually, thanks to TiVo, it was more like an hour and twenty-five minutes. Watching the WPT always makes me want to play a tournament. So I logged on, and PartyPoker.com's server was down. No gambling for me tonight. Good or bad? I don't know. Maybe I missed out on some monster pots. Maybe I saved myself from a series of bad beats.

Online poker isn't the only gambling I do. I have a law practice. About half of it is contingent fee work. Contingent fee work is a lot like gambling. You bet a lot of money, work your hand, and hope that the payoff is worth the risk.

I had a pretty big pot working tonight. One of the firm's cases was in mediation. So I was sitting there, lamenting the technical difficulties on my poker site when the telephone rang. It was my co-counsel, bearing tidings of great joy -- a great big cash settlement has been reached. If you've ever clicked on my About Me page, you know that great big cash settlements are among my favorite things.

As the sun set, I looked back on an eventful day with quite mixed results. If I were to make a list of the best things that happened today, and a list of the worst things that happened today, I'd have two pretty long lists of things. Loved or hated, but never ignored, were the hours of my day today.

June 22, 2004

I have a survey/quiz to share with you all. It reportedly yields a 98% identical response from all participants. But, first, check out these photos, which are worth a double take:
***
First, there is a picture of a massive wave from Typhoon Dianmu pummeling a fishing port in Aki, Japan.
Contrast that with this picture of a boat, balancing on a rock, wishing it was being pummeled by a massive wave.
***
Everyone knows that chicks dig the piercing eyes of men like Rasputin. But this picture shows that pretty chicks with very clean skin and perfect blonde hair might dig the pickled member even more.
What those type of girls don't dig is the unwashed (for six years) 20 foot length of single strand dreadlock.
***Chicks always dig the tiger cubs. Or are they tiger kittens? For some reason, they don't seem to dig the koalas as much. The picture says they are identical twins. I don't know. Any two random koalas look like twins to me.
***
Finally, you know the old saying, "lucky in love, unlucky in cards." Ben Affleck has turned that saying on its end. Affleck is lucky in love. He rode J.Lo for a good long time, then escaped just in time, before J. Lo. walked down the aisle anyway, with Marc Anthony. And now, he has found luck in cards. He took the California State Poker Championship on Sunday at the Commerce Club (a club I play) against some very good players, like Stan Goldstein, Chuck Pacheco, Jimmy Tran, Amir Vahedi and former World Champion John Esposito. As Dominican baseball players used to say "You can't walk off the island." Nor can you call and check your way to a poker title. Affleck is an aggressive player. And he's becoming a successful one.
***
Anyhow, now that you've looked at and read the pictures and comments on the links, here is the imagination and creativity test. Prepare to join the 2% or the 98%. It will only take a minute. You need no pen or paper.

Follow the instructions, and answer the questions one at a time, but as quickly as you can.

1. Pick a number from 1 to 10.
2. Multiply that number by 9.
3. If the number is a 2-digit number, add the digits together.
4. Now subtract 5
5. Take what is left, and choose the letter than goes with that number: (i.e. 1=a, 2=b, 3=c, 4=d, 5=e....)
6. Think of a country that starts with that letter.
7. Remember the last letter of the name of that country.
8. Think of the name of an animal that starts with that last letter from the country.
9. Remember the last letter in the name of that animal.
10. Think of the name of a fruit that starts with that last letter from the animal's name.

Now picture your animal eating that fruit, in the country. What did you get?

June 21, 2004

I woke up last Thursday with a neck spasm. And it hasn't gone away yet.

Neck spasms, for the uninitiated, do not feel spasmodic at all. They feel like something has burrowed into your muscle, grabbed a fair volume of flesh with its teeth, and is pulling, pulling, pulling as much meat as it can get off your bone, but the flesh won't tear from the bone. It just pulls, tears and causes searing pain. Sometimes, when you have a neck spasm, pulling your neck in one direction or another can ease the pain. Mine seems to improve if I pull my chin toward my feet, or if I pull my entire head upward.

I've seen pictures of people who've hung themselves. I wonder how many of them did it to relieve neck spasms. If I had someone that I knew I could trust to cut me down in time, I'd try it. But I haven't built any relationships quite that trusting.

I loved this entry on Swamp City, about being in a book club, and then seeing one of the members having sex on HBO's Real Sex show. The comments are priceless, too.

The whacked-out blog of the week belongs to Jason Killingsworth. His regular blog is not extraordinary. But he has this other site, The Countdown to Hermione Granger's 18th Birthday, which is as sick as all hell. It includes a photo section that talks of Hermione (curiously, not Emma Watson) as being "so damn HOT!!" The countdown appears to be leading to the character's 18th birthday, as well. Not Emma's. So I am going to assume that it is a parody of other countdown sites, like the sites previously maintained by various Olsen twins nutjobs. But it looks real. And sick. Real sick.

Gorilla Mask picked it up recently, and everyone's having a cow over it. But the photos of the Hermione fan and the pictures of Jason on his "normal" blog are not similar. And Jason claims to work for Pastemusic.com as a general manager (I'm sure they will be thrilled by the reference) while, as a Hermione fan, Jason claims to work for Centripulse Network Systems, which appears to not exist. I'm going to guess it's a joke. But just in case, I'm calling Homeland Security.

[Update: Jason has edit the page to change the name of the Hermione fan to "Donald Nyffington." Furthermore, he has posted a comment acknowledging that the Hermione pages are a joke. Still, this is satire at its worst.]

This isn't really a quiz, but plug in your name and this page will give you a hockey nickname.

Frankly, that's all I've got for now. The quizzes are getting lamer all the time.

If you think quizzes are stupid, you can watch amazing or amusing videos:

If you liked the guy who is counting down to Hermione's coming of age, you'll love this. SNL had a fairly twisted parody recently, featuring Lindsay Lohan as Hermione, and Rachel Dratch (the chick with the hook nose) as Harry. The skit takes the fact that Emma Watson has started growing boobies, and runs with it. It is funny.

Remember this commercial? "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful." I remember Sam Kinison's line: "We don't hate you because you're beautiful, we hate you because YOU'RE A BIIIITCH!!!" I disagreed with Sam. I hated her because she wouldn't let the cameraman pan down.

This commercial lets the cameraman pan down. If rated, I'd give it an NC-17, but it's actually a public service announcement. Clever, but risque.

This last one I cannot figure out. The instructions are in Japanese or something. They have been interpreted for me as follows: To start the game, click on the blue dot. To put people on the raft, click on the people to move them to the raft, click on the red dots to move the raft. Everybody must cross the river. Only one or two people may cross on the raft at a time. Only the Mom, Dad, and Policeman can operate the raft. Dad can not be in the presence of the girls without Mom being present. Mom can not be in the presence of the boys without Dad being present. The thief can not be alone with any of the family members. I gave up. Email me if you figure it out.

You can do odd things:

Have your mind read by the amazing mindreader. If you don't figure it out by the third try, you're an idiot.

The Man-n-Bag. This is the hook: "Grab your cell phone, wallet, keys, sunglasses, PDA, mp3 player, and gym pass and you'll be free and mobile. Only MAN-n-BAG let's you keep all these things with you when you're on the go. If it's not a MAN-n-BAG, it's a purse."

And, dammit, a forum for executed people's last words. I don't think they should be allowed any final meals or final statements, but since they do, you can read about them here. The only one I liked: "You are going to hurt me, please don't hurt me, just one more moment, I beg you!"

I take that back. I liked this one, too: "I did not get my Spaghetti-O's, I got spaghetti. I want the press to know this," uttered by Thomas J. Grasso, March 20, 1995. He's dead now. He never got the Spaghetti-O's. He never deserved them in the first place.

What do they know that we don't know? Or are they, like Jerry ("Players don't win championships, organizations win championships") Krause unable to see what every other basketball fan in the country sees?

June 19, 2004

Those of you who know me well know that I really enjoy playing poker. I have an account at PartyPoker.com, and I play $10-$30 tournaments several times a week. In fact, every weekend, when I work on financial records and non-billable tasks like that, I almost always have a game of Texas Hold 'em going in the background.

A tournament win is only $50-$150, but it can make my day. A great hand, especially if I trapped someone into betting into it, can have me cackling like a jackal for ten minutes. A Royal Flush is enough to last me a weekend. Like the British common man, I have an affinity for Royals that can lead me to make bad decisions. A big bet on fourth street will draw a call from me almost every time if I have a Royal Flush draw.

It's a bit warped. I filed a case today that is likely to generate a generous six figure fee, but tonight I will go to sleep excited not about that, but about this:

(I've photoshopped out my poker screen name.)

It's my first Royal Flush in several weeks. A few players at the table commented that it was the first they had ever seen. (Rookies!) I only won $11. But a Royal Flush drawn on the river is ten times as sweet as a Royal Flush on the flop. Running cards on fourth and fifth street are even sweeter. That was almost as sweet as it gets.

June 18, 2004

1. Phenylethylamine is a chemical your brain produces when you fall in love. It increases your pulse rate and your energy level, and gives you a pleasant, dreamy feeling. So far, tobacco companies have been unable to synthesize it and stick it into cigarettes. But not for lack of trying.

2. California's grizzlies died off before my grandparents were born. The last wild grizzly bear in California was killed in 95 years ago. Surprisingly, it was not in a national park or a remote forest. It was in Trabuco Canyon, just a few miles from my urban home.

3. Jim Morrison's grave is inscribed with the words "kata ton aaimona eaytoy", which, I am told, means "burn your own demon." That's not what I would have expected to find on Morrison's grave.

4. Parts per million of alcohol can be important to track: the average person vomits at around 1.2, loses consciousness at 3.0, and stops breathing at about 4.0.

5. Genius Sir Isaac Newton once stared at the Sun for "as long as he could bear" (whatever that means) just to see what effect it would have on his eyes. After a few days in a dark room, he was okay. I would call him a dumbass, but if I did, I fear my high school physics teacher would emerge from her grave and smack me in the ear with a ruler.

June 17, 2004

June 17 is a big day. In addition to being the day Mrs. Lex came into being, it is the day the watergate burglars got busted, and, now, even more famous, the day of the OJ Simpson slow speed police chase. This year was the 10th anniversary of that chase.

As a proud Trojan, Lex refers to other USC men as "Fine Trojans." There is no such thing as an 'SC grad in the lexicon. They are all fine Trojans. John Ritter? A fine Trojan. John Wayne? A fine Trojan. Mark Prior? Mark MacGwire? Fine Trojans. Carson Palmer? A fine Trojan. OJ Simpson? An athlete who played football at USC. But not a fine Trojan.

I remember OJ's run from the police. It turned into a strange pop culture moment. In a way, it was like the shuttle crashes or Reagan being shot. I don't just remember the run, I remember where I was and what I was doing when OJ ran. During part of it, I was watching the NBA Finals in a little box in the corner of my big screen TV, while NBC was focusing on the chase scene.

If you are too young to remember, just try a suitable google search for OJ slow speed chase and white bronco. You'll be with us immediately.

The spouse does not like OJ. In part it is because she thinks he is a murderer and a wife beater. In part, because he shamed her husband's alma mater. In part, it is because of my frequent mentions of OJ when the kids are buying Pez dispensers. But mostly, it's because she can't make it through a birthday without someone saying something about OJ and his Bronco chase.

Mrs. Lex went to Disneyland today with the kids. Acquitted multiple murderers don't fit in with the overall Disney marketing experience, so she was pretty safe all day. I joined them for a very nice dinner at the Blue Bayou, and then we wandered around a bit and left. She was all set to drive home, without the radio on, and spend a whole birthday without hearing or seeing any reference to OJ all day. On our way out of the park, we hopped on the number 01 parking lot tram and sat in the first car. As the tram pulled out, the number 01 was shining right in front of our faces. And it reflected the number onto the ceiling of the tram car. And there it was. "OJ" in blood red.

I got this thing in the mail from more than a half-dozen people today, a couple of whom actually believe in stuff like this. It instructs you to make a list from 1 to 11, then, in order, write two numbers, list five people you know (two -- in the 4th and 7th spots -- are supposed to be opposite sex, I mixed that up the first time), and finally, write down the titles of four songs. Then you make a wish. After all this, you scroll down and the truth is revealed to you. If you are impressed, you forward it to everyone you know and your wish comes true. The "truth" for me was as follows, in all caps. [My reaction is the stuff in lower case.]

YOU MUST TELL (THE NUMBER IN SPACE 2) PEOPLE ABOUT THIS GAME.
No way am I going to tell 1,967 people about this. I might put it up on the bjournal, though.

THE PERSON IN SPACE 3 IS THE ONE YOU LOVE
Sorry. I do not love Brenda D------. She's a client old enough to have kids drawing social security. I'm no Anna Nicole.

THE PERSON IN 7 IS ONE YOU LIKE BUT CAN`T WORK OUT.
I wrote B-------'s name. She's my córka. It's true, I like her, but I think I have her pretty well figured out. For now. The not worked out part might come true once she hits her teens.

YOU CARE MOST ABOUT THE PERSON YOU PUT IN 4
I listed the opposing counsel from this morning's court appearance. The list of people I care about more than Steve H---- is probably 3 billion large, including all of the people in China, every Spanish speaking person...in fact, almost everyone on the planet who does not get their news from Al Jazeera, save, maybe 20 people.

THE PERSON YOU NAME IN NUMBER 5 IS THE ONE WHO KNOWS YOU VERY WELL.
Judge J------ barely knows me.

THE PERSON YOU NAMED IN 6 IS THE YOUR LUCKY STAR.
Mike L------- is a good friend, but he is not the my lucky star.

THE SONG IN 8 IS THE SONG THAT MATCHES WITH THE PERSON IN NUMBER 3.
"Chain" and Brenda D------. There is no apparent connection there.

TE TITLE IN 9 IS THE SONG FOR THE PERSON IN 7
"One Big Holiday" as the song for my daughter? Not really. She is starting summer vacation, though.

THE 10TH SPACE IS THE SONG THAT TELLS YOU MOST ABOUT YOUR MIND.
"Float On." Okay, it's more telling than the other three, but it's not exactly my theme song.

AND 11 IS THE SONG TELLING HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT LIFE.
"The First of the Gang to Die." A song about Hector, guns, doing time and dying. Um, not even close. The juxtaposition of the words "life" and "to die" is mildly amusing.

All in all, I'd say it was a rather poor fortune tell.

SEND THIS TO 10 PEOPLE WITHIN THE HOUR YOU READ THIS.
IF YOU DO, YOUR WISH WILL COME TRUE.
I wished for world peace. The world is screwed. I'm not sending it to ten people.

June 16, 2004

It's a ball. A little bitty ball. A used, little bitty ball. You can buy a brand new one for $8. But people go nuts for them.

Steve Bartman is a pariah in Chicago just because, like any normal fan, he went for a foul ball. It's just that his foul ball reflex messed up a play that could have made a big out for the Cubbies. I feel bad for him.

I emphathize with his desire to go for the ball. I might have knocked the kid on his butt, too. But, once I realized that I had done so, I'd have picked the kid up, made sure he was okay, and given him that ball.

Last season, I talked a 7-year-old kid into giving me his spot on the rail during batting practice so I could reach a foul ball on the dirt. Trust me, he had no shot at it. But, unlike Starr, I gave the kid the ball, after which, I gave him his spot back.

I've been to at least 100 big league games in Anaheim, Los Angeles and San Diego. I've never caught a foul ball during a game. But, I've caught or grabbed a myriad of balls during batting practices. Got one at the 2002 World Series. Got a BP home run ball hit by Bo Jackson. But, I've only once touched a ball during a game, and I didn't get to keep it. It ricocheted off the railing and smacked me on the kneecap. Some other guy ended up with it.

I once broke the railing and fell onto the field reaching for a ball. It wasn't my fault. I was leaning over a part of the railing that was actually a gate when someone came up behind me, glove outstretched, and smacked me in the back. And someone had forgotten to lock the gate. In fact, they hadn't even clicked it shut. When I got hit from behind, the gate swung open, and it was not designed to support that kind of weight whilst swinging open. The gate and I crumbled to the warning track. Security came down, but did not arrest me or kick me out. In fact, they apologized.

I did get kicked out once for going after a ball with a foreign object.

It's a long story. During a televised 1987 or 1988 spring training game, I saw someone hit the ball out, and, for some reason, the camera stayed focused on the spot where the ball had gone over the fence. It stayed there for a good 10 seconds. During those 10 seconds, someone ran down and started lowering some sort of device on a string. And he came up with the ball.

I felt like I had just seen my first string bikini -- a cross between "Wow!" and "You can do that?"

I went to work on a ball-grabbing device immediately. I settled upon cord, attached to a pile of upside-down clear plastic cups, with weights on top. I could lower it over the ball, drop it from about 3 inches, and the ball would get stuck inside. I could then reel the ball in.

It worked perfectly at Angel Stadium. There was a huge section where balls could be hit past the fence and they would just lay there, 25 feet below the stands. Easily in reach. When the first ball got hit out during batting practice, I walked over to the spot, lowered my cups, snagged the ball and pulled it up. By the time the game began, my backpack had about a dozen real major-league baseballs.

The next game, I did the same thing. Except there was a second dude there with a device. It wasn't as good as mine, but with some work, he got a ball. I went away with 8 or 10 balls. Each game, there were new guys with new devices competing for the balls. By the end of the first homestand, there were probably 10 guys with different devices, including one made with a lemonade pitcher and two strings, that never once snagged a ball.

A strange etiquette formed. The first one to the spot got first crack at the ball, without interference. But if he hit the ball and didn't grab it, it was like a scratch in pool, and the next guy could take his shot. The race to the spot became the key to getting the ball. It was like watching the boats going for a home run outside McCovey Cove. Apparently, officials started to view it as a safety hazard.

I missed the first series in the next homestand, but made it to the first game of the second series. I got there early for batting practice and waited for the first shot over the fence. When it came, I dashed over to the spot, but found no one else competing for the ball. I pulled it up, but I was almost immediately confronted by security. They demanded the ball and the device. Borrowing a phrase from Jim Morrison, I told them to eat it. They told me it was my last chance to give them the ball and the device. In that case, I told them, it was their last chance to eat it.

They escorted me to the gate. But I didn't care. Because I had that stupid little used baseball. I can't explain it.

Looking back, the coolest thing about it is not that I kept the ball. The ball is long gone. The coolest thing is knowing that there is a rule, at at least one major league baseball park, that was specifically created to thwart me. It's not exactly like Wilt Chamberlain and the expanded key, but it's cool nonetheless.

One of these days, I'll write about the rule Disneyland put in place to keep Lex from entering the park for free.

June 15, 2004

If I called the Rome show tomorrow, I would offer some, but not all, of these miscellaneous observations on the demise of the Lakers:

-- In a bit of a metaphor, L.A. was jolted today by two earthquakes, just 37 seconds apart. Back to back earth-shaking events.

-- Has any team with more talent ever failed to win it all?

-- That was a pathetic effort. But, what a rush at the end. The Lakers made it look close with that late burst against the Piston scrubs. The box score makes it look like the missed Shaq free throws and one more miracle trey from Kobe would have been enough to send the series back to L.A.

-- In football, one great game can lead to a big upset. In hockey, a hot goaltender can lead an underdog to an upset even in a seven game series. The same goes for one or two hot pitchers in a baseball series. But in the NBA, upsets in a seven game series, especially in the finals, are few and far between. This is the biggest upset in the NBA Finals in years. Maybe the biggest ever.

-- It is far more shocking than the Pistons sweeping the Lakers in 1989. Even though the Lakers were 11-0 in the playoffs going into that series, the Pistons were pretty good that year, and the major Laker injuries made the sweep unsurprising.

-- But I agree with those who say that this championship is a bit less shocking that Golden State's sweep of Washington in 1975.

-- No home team had ever swept all three middle games in the 2-3-2 format. The Lakers and Larry Brown's 76ers had dropped three home games in a row, though. That means the Lakers have been involved in all three "middle sweeps."

-- Larry Brown is my least favorite coach ever, having led UCLA and a team that beat the Lakers in the finals. It is impressive, though, that he is the first to win both an NCAA and NBA title. It was even more impressive that he led the Clippers to the playoffs once.

-- Next year, David Stern needs to tell his officials not to worry about favoring Detroit. They can hold their own even without getting all the close calls.

-- Piston owner Bill Davidson is having a good month. Some of you might recognize him as Stanley Cup Champion Tampa Bay Lightning owner Bill Davidson.

-- I will be shocked if Detroit repeats as NBA champs. Their reign will last but a year.

-- I will also be shocked if Tampa Bay repeats as Stanley Cup champs. Their reign might last two or three years, though. That hockey labor dispute is looking ugly. Not as ugly as the Lakers' team hustle, but ugly nonetheless.

-- NBA vagabond Chauncey Billups is the least impressive player to win the MVP award since Cornbread Maxwell in 1981.

-- Bad Religion got it wrong. Detroit is burning. But at least they aren't killing each other this time.

-- Na na na na is nothing. Putting Darko Milicic on the floor is the ultimate insult to the other team.

-- When playing "what if", the Lakers have a decent claim with "what if Malone had played?" The Pistons have a pretty good counter, though, with "what if we had drafted Carmelo Anthony?"

-- If I wasn't so bitter about my game six tickets becoming worthless overnight, I would be gushing over the outstanding team defense and unselfish offense played by Detroit. Though less talented than the Lakers, they played this series the way basketball was meant to be played. I'm sure John Wooden would have enjoyed watching them play.

-- I say "would have" solely because I don't think Wooden could stomach watching the Lakers play the way they did, and he couldn't watch one without the other.

-- Karl Malone was the most fundamentally sound player on the Lakers. It is no surprise that Malone's absence left the Lakers lacking in fundamentals.

-- Ironically, Malone was also the most durable player of his generation. In Utah, Malone played in 1,434 of a possible 1,444 regular-season games. For L.A., he missed almost half (39) of 82.

-- Gary Payton looked like he would rather be a Clipper.

-- Phil Jackson also looked wiped out. Will Jim Cleamons be the next Laker head coach?

-- Big 'fros are to basketball what rally monkeys are to baseball.

-- I see similarities between this Piston team and the 2002 Angels. Both were made of solid players, but not superstars, with no great weak spots in the starting lineup or on the bench. Both were well coached and played almost perfectly to beat what were widely considered to be better teams on their way to a championship.

-- Do you think the San Antonio Spurs feel like Detroit is celebrating something that should have belonged to the Spurs?

-- Fisher's 0:00.4 shot suddenly isn't quite so meaningful. You know, I can barely remember the excitement of watching that shot.

-- Hell, I can barely remember being excited by the finish of game two of these finals.

-- And I've completely forgotten the thrill of the Lakers signing Malone and Payton.

-- Jerry Buss walked out in the third quarter. At least he didn't give up until well after his players did.

-- I understand Magic's frustration with this team, but his Lakers lost three finals series, and, worse, lost to Houston in the 1981 and 1986 western conference rounds. After shooting 2-13, his last second airball layup on the last play of the Lakers' 1981 season wasn't exactly Hall of Fame material.

-- Magic and Kobe have this shared character flaw: the inability to keep it in one's own pants. For each, this flaw affected his team dramatically, maybe even costing a championship or two. It remains to be seen if Kobe's problem ends his NBA career early, like Magic's did.

-- Kobe Bryant looked like he got caught looking ahead to next year's playoffs, when he can be "The Man" for a lesser team. Or maybe he was looking ahead to prison? Nah, to Kobe, the Lakers, with Phil Jackson and Shaq, were prison enough.

-- Bryant reportedly vowed that the Lakers would win game five. But we all know how seriously Bryant takes his vows.

With 3:13 to go in the final period, the Lakers are down by 25. I am beginning to lose faith. Though he usually is on target with his comments, Tom Tolbert looks like an idiot on TV. I normally don't care about, or even pay attention to, another man's attire, but not having to watch Tolbert in his absurd threads is the one thing I will celebrate as I watch Detroit school my Lakers tonight in Michigan.

I know injuries are part of the game, but I hate it when a team loses a game or a series after losing a key player. Especially when I am holding extremely valuable tickets to game six, and the series ends in five. (I was auctioning them on eBay, but cancelled the auction when the deficit hit 16.)

It's Déjà Vu, all over again. The last time the Lakers played the Pistons in the finals, Magic Johnson and Byron Scott both sat out, after the Lakers had the most dominant rip ever through the western conference playoffs, sweeping in Portland, Seattle and Phoenix in three, four and four games. If the Lakers go down in this year's finals, as appears all but certain, we will be left wondering what would have happened if Karl Malone was healthy. Look to the regular season and you will see that the Lakers were mostly dominant with a healthy Malone in the lineup, and mostly mediocre without him.

Of course, injuries might have had something to do with the Lakers getting to the finals in the first place. After all, Minnesota may or may not have beaten the Lakers if Sam Cassell had played. It is sad that we will never know.

One Déjà Vu I hope I'm not experiencing: in 1989, the Lakers' loss meant that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar ended his career with a loss in hte finals. This year, the loss might mean that Karl Malone ends his career with a loss in the finals. I hope Malone plays another season. Payton I can do without, though.

Though it will do without a basketball title, tomorrow, Los Angeles (one of four such cities in the United States) gets its turn hosting the Athens 2004 Olympic Torch Relay. And everyone, it seems, but me, gets to carry the torch for a few yards.

It's not quite the Jedi mind trick come to life (if you don't know what a Jedi mind trick is, you need to devote a little more time to pop culture), but researchers reported yesterday that four of their subjects had learned how to control a video game using thought alone after electrodes were placed on the surface of their brains. While this appears to be a rather frivolous reason to let a bunch of mad scientists put electrodes on the surface of one's brain, the implications are fascinating.

This story was more scary than fascinating: I remember the Far Side cartoon with the cowboys sitting around the fire, and a guy standing up, smoke wafting from the tip of his gun, saying "You guys are all witnesses. He laughed when my marshmallow caught fire." And I remember thinking, that wouldn't be so damn funny if it really happened. Well, a South African man has confessed to hacking to death his interior designer because she criticized his decor. "She did not make any nice comments about my place so I went to my garage and fetched an axe," he explained.

I'm glad I wasn't the one who gave this quote: University of Colorado president Elizabeth Hoffman, asked in deposition whether the word "c*nt" could ever be used in a polite context, answered: "Yes, I've actually heard it used as a term of endearment." If Mike Price or Gary Barnett had said that, they would have been impaled by angry feminists within hours.

Next time I am in Switzerland, I'm going to drink absinthe until I can paint like Degas and Picasso. I could use a few swigs right now.

But since I don't have any absinthe, I guess I'll just turn on Indie 103 and listen to some decent music while I try to adjust my psyche.

June 14, 2004

When one sits on a bench, one's buttocks do not actually touch the bench. Rather, they get so close to the bench that the electrons at the edge of one's buttocks are repelled by the electrons from the bench. Thus, one is actually levitating about one angstrom or so above the chair. Given this fact, one would think that the bench would feel softer, but it doesn't.

How far is is an angstrom? Expressed in meters, an angstrom is 1 x 10 to the -10th power, or 0.0000000001. That's just 10% of a nanometer, but it's a hundred picometers.

If you can figure out a way to work this knowledge into everyday conversation, you are probably my high school physics teacher. And you are a nun who has a crush on Sir Isaac Newton.

June 13, 2004

A couple of fishermen got busted for doing something called "Monkey Fishing," which involved shocking the fish into coming near the surface, then scooping them up with nets. There is still no confirmed sighting, however, of monkeys using this method to catch fish.

I like this one, even though it's not a blog, per se. Alex Boase's Museum of Hoaxes.

I was perusing Stickers & Bones when I found this nugget of truth concerning the malicious nature of Jack Russell Terrier dogs. The theme of the post is about the hair, but I found the dog reference more intriguing.

Chuck snowballs. If you saw Clerks and are afraid to click that link, fear not. Chuck is a verb. Snowballs is the noun. But, if my ears aren't deceiving me, I think it says the f word every time you chuck a snowball.

Job application asks if you have a high school diploma. You flunked out in third grade. You hate checking the box that says "No." The solution to your problem? Buy someone else's. Here, you can bid on dozens of high school diplomas. That way, you can check the box that says "Yes." (Don't tell them that it is Richie Poffenberger's.)

June 12, 2004

Every month, some new cloning story hits the press and makes the plot of Jurassic Park seem more and more plausible. But, if dinosaurs ever again walk the Earth, we will find ourselves living in a very different world.

Though few people consider this danger, one of the more disturbing changes I would expect to see would be the emergence of a new breed of lawyer, specializing in dinosaur liability cases, and running tacky dinosaur liability ads. "Have you or your loved ones been disemboweled by a velociraptor? Call me at 1-888-DIN-OLAW." It wouldn't be pretty.

June 10, 2004

I had several chances to see Ray Charles perform. I f*cking blew it. Charles died this morning in Los Angeles. By the time I knew he was declining, it was too late. He would never perform again. Did I ever mention that Ray Charles was my idol? He was. Did I ever mention that I used to spend hours and hours trying to imitate his voice? I did. Did I ever mention that my favorite TV show ever was the Quantum Leap episode ("M.I.A. - April 1, 1969") that featured Al's first wife, Beth, dancing to "Georgia on my Mind?" It is. Did I ever mention that I sing Georgia On My Mind and Unchain My Heart at karaoke bars? I do.

What a lousy week. Ronald Reagan? Gone. Ray Charles? Gone.

Attention Jerry West: go into hiding for a few days. You are in serious danger. All of Lex's idols are expiring this week.

I've been doing this 5 months. I just passed the 10,000 mark on the counter. I don't know whether that is good or not, but if I had a nickel for every person who had clicked on my journal, I'd have enough money for two nosebleed seats for the next Laker game.

June 09, 2004

Since the Lakers don't play tonight, I have a brief opportunity to think about things not Laker.

William Bratton, the Chief of Police for LAPD, has a heavy, heavy Celtic fan accent. It really sounds strange out here. When the Lakers win the NBA Title, and all the Angelenos who couldn't afford tickets to the game start celebrating by flipping over my BMW and setting it on fire, Bratton is going to be on TV urging Laker fans to celebrate with dignity. And when the local homeboys hear that Boston accent, they are going to just laugh. It's like having Rudy Guiliani say "Duuuude!" Except, it really does happen.

Okay, that was sort of Lakerish. I'll move on.

Last year, the Angels and Domino's Pizza gave free pizzas the next day to all fans who were in attendance if the Angels hit back-to-back home runs. This year, they dare not. But Hooter's still gives away free Hooter's Wings if they score 10 runs.

My favorite play in baseball is the throw to the plate: catcher versus runner. Right now, the Angels have the best throwing outfield ever assembled. A week or two ago, I went to two games in two nights and saw two runners nailed at the plate. It was great.

Vladimir Guerrero rocks. I know I'm an Angel homer, but I think this guy might be the best thing baseball has to offer right now. But the man is not a good interview. Someone needs to teach him how to say "Baizebowl ben beddy beddy good to me."

Did you know that Planned Parenthood has a chaplain? That's as useful as ... actually, I can think of nothing less useful.

I recently turned down a $3.5 million dollar settlement offer in one of my cases. That was a rush. Now I understand why some people like jumping out of planes.

What are you afraid of? It is said that the fear of speaking to a group is the most common phobia. I don't have it. Other common phobias include fears of: heights (that one gets me), insects (no, but certain spiders will make me squeal like a girl), financial ruin (not a problem), deep water (not a problem), sickness (ebola and hanta freak me out), death (it's going to get me eventually), rats (damn! get 'em off me!), flying (yeah, just a bit), loneliness (with all the voices in my head, I am never lonely), dogs (dig 'em), riding in cars (dig 'em), darkness (dig it), elevators (dig 'em) and escalators (that has to be a typo).

I have an old memo that referred to me as the author's coworker, but I've never orked a cow in my life. For him, or anybody else.

I'm glad I don't have people all over the country second-guessing my legal skills. But that doesn't stop me from second-guessing other lawyers. I thought Martha Stewart's lawyers blew it. Right now, I think the prosecutors in the Scott Peterson trial are blowing it. And I think the defense lawyers in the Orange County passed-out teenage porn star gang rape case are blowing it. Time will tell.

I saw a sign that warned against going into water containing sewage, because sewage attracts baitfish, which in turn attract sharks. But, sharks or not, I don't want to swim in sewage. All the sign needed to say was: "This is shitwater. Swim at your own risk."

In my book, if you are wearing good quality body paint, you aren't naked. Let these ladies walk amongst us.

What is more annoying, driving 30 mph, when your lane is moving faster than any of the other lanes, or driving 50 mph while watching cars in the other lanes zipping past at 65? The answer, of course, is that both situations suck.

They don't build many hatchbacks anymore. And the old hatchbacks are starting to look pretty bad.

I am not Zen. I recently read this quote of Dogen from The Pocket Zen Reader: "If you would be freed of greed, first you have to leave egotism behind. The best mental exercise for relinquishing egotism is contemplating impermanence."

Even if I wasn't working 13 hour days, I'm way too cool to sit down and try to figure that out.

June 08, 2004

It was looking pretty bleak. I had two Piston fans screaming in the row behind me, to no one in particular, "He's no Jordan! He's no Jordan!" I had to get up three times to let people pass as they left the game early. The Lakers were down 6 points with less than 40 seconds to go. I was tempted to get a head start on my way to the door. But I stayed. It was easier to have faith in the Lakers' chances to win this game than to have faith in their chance to win the series without winning this game.

No team has ever lost the first two game of a Finals series at home and come back to win the series. Never. As much faith as I have in my Lakers, I knew that if they went back to Detroit down 0-2, my tickets for games six and seven would be worthless.

The first three-point play was as unlikely as the second. Shaq got hammered, made the basket and, even more amazingly, hit the free throw. Then, after a defensive stop, the Lakers had a chance. Everyone in the house, except maybe Larry Brown, knew Kobe was going to try to get the last shot. I almost had a heart attack when Shaq touched the ball on the inbound pass. The right foul committed there would have ended the game. I recovered when he passed off before they could foul him. Walton had it briefly. I thought he might take the shot -- he did have a hot hand -- but then Kobe got the ball and I just knew.

The place went nuts. Rip Hamilton, meet Bryon Russell, Gerald Wilkins and Craig Ehlo. It wasn't really your fault, but your man just made you famous. We'll be watching that video for years to come.

Of course, there were still 2.1 seconds left. But, Detroit has no Kobe. And, as he did all night, Luke Walton made a hustle play on defense, and the game went to overtime. By the way, what a game Walton had! After a DNPCD in game one, he played 27 minutes -- more than starter Devean George -- and ended up with seven points (on 3/3 shooting), eight assists (plus one blown assist when Malone missed the open layup and scored on the rebound) and five rebounds. He knocked away at least 3 or 4 passes, including the critical last throw in regulation. His dad must have been grinning from ear to ear.

During the extra period, most of the empty seats refilled, and we all yelled our heads off as we watched the Lakers hit 5 of 7 shots to win it by eight points.

The Piston fans behind us had this to say: " . . . "

It was easily one of the top ten sports moments I've witnessed in person. I just hope this momentum carries forward a game or two.

President Bush has issued an Executive Order and Governor Schwarzenegger has issued a Proclamation designating Friday, June 11, as a "Day of Remembrance" for former President Reagan. Lex was thrilled at the prospect of not having to drag his butt out to Van Nuys for an 8:45 a.m. status conference. After all, courts are closed on public holidays. Today, however, Lex learned that, under California law, June 11 is not a judicial holiday.

Government Code Section 6700 provides a list of state holidays, which include "every day appointed by the President or Governor for a public fast, thanksgiving, or holiday." The order and proclamation do not use the words Thanksgiving or holiday, and no one has asked anyone else to fast. Therefore, the courts shall remain open. Court employees can mourn from their desks. Lex will begin mourning at 6:30 a.m., when he hits the freeway heading north to LA.

If, however, you work for executive departments, independent establishments, and other governmental agencies, except that you will have to work on Friday if you work for the Department of State, the Department of Defense, the Department of Justice, the Department of Homeland Security, or other departments, independent establishments, and governmental agencies that the heads thereof determine should remain open for reasons of national security or defense or other essential public business. Do they make themselves clear?

June 07, 2004

At the Lakers-Pistons game, I detested these fans, listed in no particular order:

1. The Reluctant Attention Whore: If you go to the game with face paint and a crazy hat, and they put your face up on the big screen, don't duck and hide as if you weren't looking for attention.

2. The Unwanted Attention Whore: If you are sitting near someone interesting, and they are put on the screen, don't jump up and wave at the camera. We weren't looking at you.

3. The Jersey Grabber: If you are on the screen, don't grab your jersey and pull it up to your chin. We can see it just fine the normal way.

4. The Aging Whore: If you are old enough to remember Kennedy being shot -- either of them -- you should not wear a leather miniskirt to the game.

5. The Non-Student of the Game: To the dude with the Bob McAdoo Pistons jersey: McAdoo hated his two seasons in Detroit. In 1980-81, he played in only six games for the Pistons before they waived him. Both of his championships rings say "Lakers" on them.

Honorable Mention: The clowns in my section who yell "Can you dig it?" when Shaq shoots a free throw. He misses it every time they do that.

Fans I liked:

1. Michael Clark Duncan.
2. Dick Van Dyke, singing the National Anthem.
3. Magic, Kareem and Worthy.
4. The rapper in the turquoise three piece suit (was that William Drayton?)
5. Some dude I saw in a commercial one time.

I loved this quote from Pat Riley: "I have Lakers blood flowing through my veins. I owe my basketball life to them. When I retire, I am going to move back to Los Angeles and pay $85,000 to get courtside seats to watch them play. I will always root for the Lakers." I miss that guy.

I loved this one, from Chuck Daly, almost as much: "This guy [Shaquille O’Neal] is very amusing to me. People keep giving the MVP during the season to these other people. But then when we get to the Finals, people are all scared to death of him. They put three guys on him. He is going to be a deciding factor."

The "Kiss Me" feature on the big screen was boring last night. So was the "Ask Jeeves" feature. You know what I want them to ask Jeeves? Why does the Pistons logo have a horse on it?

"We all know Reagan's legacy, from the Iran-Contra affair to the funding of the Nicaraguan military in which over 200,000 people died. The groundwork for the move steadily to the right happened with the Reagan administration. People want to elevate him to some mythic level; they have their own reason for doing that."

Apparently, Danny, not everyone knows Reagan's legacy. In fact, not even everyone with a microphone at your rally knows Reagan's legacy. May you, too, suffer and die, to be publicly mocked by someone as ignorant as you.

Sixty years ago today, American forces lead the Allied invasion to reclaim France from the occupying Nazis. They stormed the beaches at Normandy: Omaha Beach, Pointe du Hoc, Sword Beach, the Cotentin Peninsula, Utah Beach, Juno Beach and Gold Beach. They fought and died as patriots, and with their bodies and their blood, paved the path toward victory. Without that sacrifice, the world, as we know it today, would not exist.

"The men of Normandy had faith that what they were doing was right, faith that they fought for all humanity, faith that a just God would grant them mercy on this beachhead or on the next. It was the deep knowledge — and pray God we have not lost it — that there is a profound moral difference between the use of force for liberation and the use of force for conquest."

June 05, 2004

One of my life mottoes is "Never have heroes." But I have had heroes. Ronald Reagan was my hero. I was an Alex P. Keaton style Republican from the moment I first became politically aware. And Ronald Reagan was my hero. My most treasured collectible is my signed Reagan autobiography. The first time I ever had a letter to the editor published, I was writing a pro-Reagan piece. I wanted to grow up to be just like Reagan, from the acting, to the Governor's Mansion, to the White House, because he was my hero.

I'm not even going to try to compete with all the writing that has been done, or will be done, for publication this weekend, about the passing of Ronald Reagan. This news story has been a long time coming, with Reagan's poor health slipping slowly and steadily toward the end of his life. Despite expecting it, I was astonished at the instant response of the news services on TV and the Internet. A thousand in-depth articles and features were in the can, ready to go.

Comparatively, I got nuthin. But I have to type something, because I loved that man almost like a grandfather. He was a great president. I have no respect today for opinions to the contrary. He loved his nation. He loved mankind. He did more than most to serve both. Because of this, Ronald Reagan was my hero.

There are certain events in the world which make people remember exactly when and where they first heard about them. My parents both recall the exact moment when they heard about Kennedy being shot. I've had a few moments like that in recent years: September 11; the Space Shuttle blowing up; the Space Shuttle burning up; Oklahoma City. But the first event that triggered such vivid recollections for me was the shooting of Ronald Reagan on March 30, 1981. I was on my way back to the locker room after P.E. when someone told me. I spent the afternoon and evening glued to the TV. After all, Ronald Reagan was my hero.

And I will probably always remember where I was this afternoon, getting ready to watch the Belmont Stakes and root for Smarty Jones, when I read the headline that said Ronald Reagan was gone. Time and disease finally did what John Hinckley, Jr. failed to do. Ronald Reagan, an American patriot, and my hero, is dead. I will miss him.

Support the Bushmeat project, a group dedicated to eliminating the killing and eating of great apes. Headquartered in Southern California, of course.

If you waited too long to click the link last week to the Sexy Apes, you got there after they announced that they were breaking up. Disappointed, I am now throwing my support behind the Braindead Monkeys.

Monkey Mofo. Made by the same guys, I think, who made that end of the world animation. If it's not them, its a remarkable ripoff.

If you think quizzes are stupid, you can watch amazing or amusing videos:

As a fan of the spelling bee, I loved this video. Kid passes out, wakes up, spells word correctly.

I'm sure most of you have seen the Star Wars Kid video. What you may not have seen is the industry that has arisen out of making and remixing that video with other videos to fulfill the complete Star Wars Kid destiny. My favorite is Star Wars Kid: a New Hope. But if you like others better, there are many to choose from.

If you look for him at http://www.jesus.com, you will find a pointer taking you to http://www.mccchurch.org/, a website for gay, lesbian and transgendered Christians. Apparently, the God Hates Fags people didn't bother to reserve all the good domain names.

You know all those stupid emails you get about Winston Churchill, the WTC tourist, the new "Mark of the Beast" transmitter, and all those lawsuits in which people get millions of dollars for doing stupid things to themselves, and you think, "this sounds like a bullshit story?" Here is the best place on the web to sort out the shiznit from the bushit. Snopes.

Everything you wanted to know about seashells. You know, it's true, guys.

I used to have this irrational fear that a clown would come up to me and say, "here, kid, hold these balloons," and then I would shoot straight into the sky. Some people would describe that less as a fear than as a goal.

Read as Mark Geragos all but convicts his future client on the Larry King Show. (And, yes, I believe Scott Peterson did it.)

The meaning of those sex bracelets that kids are supposedly playing dirty games with.

Is that celebrity dead or not? Amazingly, Robert Downey, Jr. turns out to be not dead.

You can buy strange or wonderful things:

Coffins with sensors! A cemetery in Santiago, Chile, has invented coffins that have sensors which can detect any movement in the coffin after a person has been buried. I'm changing my will. Bury me in Santiago. You know, just in case.

June 04, 2004

Starting Sunday, I'm going to lose the ability to think or talk about anything else but the NBA Finals on ABC. So, in the meantime, I guess I'll just ramble on about a bunch of random stuff.

I miss HomeGrocer.com.

But not X10. I hated it when it was around. Yet, I barely noticed when it disappeared. After years of bombarding web surfers with annoying pop-up ads, wireless camera maker X10 filed for bankruptcy last October, listing debts of more than $10 million. Among the parties stiffed: AOL, Google, Yahoo, and AdvertisementBanners.com, which won $4 million in a lawsuit against X10 shortly before the bankruptcy filing. Yeah, I remember those guys....

Did you see the pictures of those 100 students who set the new world record for the most naked people on a roller coaster? [picture NSFW] I did. And after I stopped cackling like Beavis, it occurred to me how odd it is that there is a world record for such a thing. What other world records are out there for the occasional nudist to claim? Most Naked People in an Iraqi Prison looks well out of reach, but maybe I could be part of a "Most Naked People in a Darkened Theater" record. As long as I didn't have to sit next to Pee Wee Herman.

Perhaps this is the lawyer in me speaking, but I believe the law should require that roller coaster to have warning labels that inform future riders: "WARNING! Someone's stark naked ass has been on this seat."

Segway hasn't found many buyers for its $4,000 Human Transporter scooter. But this weekend, I saw the first privately owned SHT I'd ever seen, cruising down the Strand in Oceanside. If they drop to $1,500, I might get one.

I'm no criminal defense lawyer, but I feel qualified to offer this advice:

If your home contains: several grams of unpackaged heroin, a few dozen marijuana plants, some crack cocaine, psychedelic mushrooms, cocaine powder, pistols, shotguns, rifles, a fat pile of cash and a clinic's worth of hypodermic syringes, and if your house then catches fire, put the flames out yourself, or just walk away. Quickly. And don't come back. What are you, stupid?

The dumbest thing I ever did in grade school was to speak "er talk." Some nutty kid in my class came up with the idea while trying to sound like a bad ass during a fight. And we all started doing it. We called it "er talk," or maybe "ur talk;" I don't know; it was never written. The rules were simple. You spoke normal English, but kept your lower teeth touching your upper lip the whole time. And sometimes, you randomly started words with an "s" or an "sn." So, Mikey became "snikey." And "erba cherba" meant the F word. I don’t know why.

I remember going through all sorts of strange linguistics as a kid. None was as bizarre as er talk, but the best was probably the Queen's English phase we went through in junior high school. It started when we watched "Rocky," and laughed at his proper use of the word "excellent" as a synonym for "totally awesome." This was well before Bill & Ted popularized the word. “Excellent” caught on, and the next thing you knew, we were all using the Queen's English at every opportunity.

Nobody ever needed to poop, shit, crap, lay a turd or pinch a loaf. We felt compelled to "defecate."

And we couldn't wait until the day a girl would choose to engage in coitus with us.

Does anybody sleep on a waterbed anymore?

Add this to the list of things I am grateful for: "Kip" never really caught on as a first name for boys. I think most guys named Kip are fanooks.

If they ever do a Survivor show on the moon, someone should bring a 3 wood and a golf ball as their luxury item.

I really like that Southwest Airlines commercial about the office getting out of work for the summer. Ahh, if only I could again enjoy the feeling I used to get when school was out for the summer. I suppose I could have that feeling again if I became a teacher. Or one of the Rockets, Spurs or Timberwolves. Actually, they didn't look so happy to start their summer vacation.

June 03, 2004

Today, 14-year-old David Tidmarsh won the National Spelling Bee in Washington by spelling autochthonous, which means indigenous or native. Sure, I knew that.

I dig spelling bees. Spelling bees have had a profound influence on my life. My school had spelling bees for fourth through eighth graders every year. I made it into the school spelling bee all five years. The top six kids made it to a big regional spelling bee sponsored by the Knights of Columbus. I started getting to the regional bee in fifth or sixth grade.

In seventh grade, I got screwed. The announcer mispronounced my word. I'd never heard of it, so I spelled it as best I could, phonetically, and wrong. When they gave me the correct spelling, I was furious. "That's not what you said," I protested. "Sorry, kid. Get the fuck off the stage," they said. Or words to that effect.

Okay, I admit it. They used more polite language than that, but they might as well have said it. On the way home, I vowed to win the school bee the next year and to refuse to participate in the regional as a school champion. School champions, of course, were expected to attend the regional spelling bee.

True to my word, I won the school spelling bee the next year. And I promptly announced that I wouldn't be attending the regional spelling bee. A few people freaked. After some begging and prodding, I agreed to participate. "But I am not going to waste a minute studying," I told them. They decided they could live with that. We all were issued a huge word list, and I spent all of about an hour reviewing it.

The day of the regional spelling bee arrived. I was begrudgingly impressed with the changes that resulted from the prior year's debacle. Among other things, they were taping the proceedings, to play back if there was a controversy. Coincidentally, I would be the big beneficiary of that new rule.

I drew a chair in the front row. I set my right foot on my left knee, leaned back, and relaxed. Unlike prior years, I didn't feel nervous at all. I actually spent my time between rounds thinking of funny ways to go out.

"Chrysalis. K-I-S-S-M-Y-A-S-S. Chrysalis."

Sadly, my first word was not chrysalis. Neither was my second. After one or two rounds, they threw out the advance list of words and went straight to the so-called "tiebreaker" list. Kids started missing words left and right. I did well for a few rounds, but eventually, I missed one, too: Anesthesiast.

I asked them to define it. They described for me a person who sounded a lot like an anesthetist, or an anesthesiologist. But not an anesthesiast. Because there's no such thing as an anesthesiast. But if they ever make up a word for enthusiasts of anesthesia, those people might be called anesthesiasts. Anyhow, good sport that I am, I took a crack at it.

"Anesthesiast. A-N-E-S-T-H-E-S-I-A-S-T. Anesthesiast."

"I'm sorry," they said. "Shit happens," I thought, as I headed toward the stairs of shame. Then they spelled the word...

"A-N-E-S-T-H-E-T-I-S-T."

Those assholes! They mispronounced my word again!

Some random lady in the crowd stood up. "Excuse me," she said. "My husband is an anesthetist, which is what you just spelled. He is not an anesthesiast, which is what you asked this young man to spell." They played the tape back. Yep, she was right. And I wasn't wrong. So they let me back up.

The beauty of the whole thing was this: I didn't really appreciate it, because I couldn't care less. I felt only the slightest twinge of relief. When I went back up to spell my "replacement word," I was still calm, because it didn't really matter. And I knew it.

During the intermission, some man I had never met walked up and told me he was sure I was going to win. "How do you know that?" I asked. "Because I've never seen a kid as calm as you on that stage," he replied. Well, he was wrong. I came in second, misspelling "subterranean." (I spelled it with an "i", like these people.) It didn't matter.

Ever since then, I have been mostly fearless when speaking to or performing for a group. I've performed a comedy routine in front of 200 people. I've spoken to crowds of several hundred. I've tried cases to federal juries. I've tried cases in front of a class of schoolkids on a field trip to the courthouse. I've even delivered several eulogies -- and there are few tasks in the world harder than making people laugh and smile during a eulogy. Through it all, I have remained calm. Because I'm usually standing in front of a bunch of people who don't have the huevos to be up there with me, and I know it. And if they don't like it, they can chrysalis.

June 02, 2004

If I was a teacher, I would hate to be assigned any particular subject. I would just want to study interesting things and pass the knowledge along. If I was a teacher, this would be tonight's lesson.

The opposite of a placebo is a nocebo. A nocebo is a harmless substance that might make you sick because you think it will; powdered brown sugar in a greeting card, e.g.

The holy city of Mecca has a namesake in the California desert. It is a short drive from Palm Springs.

If you are searching for anecdotal evidence of divine retribution, you might consider this true tale: J. Thomas Midgley, Jr. invented the lead gasoline additive, ethyl. After poisoning the entire world with this engine knocking inhibitor, he decided to ruin the environment further by inventing chlorofluorocarbons. Aside from a touch of lead poisoning from which he recovered, these inventions never harmed him, but in 1944, suffering from polio, he invented a motorized rope-and-pulley bed adjuster with which he accidentally strangled himself to death.

Some people who know that Alaska is not considered part of the continental United States do not know that Alaska is part of the North American continent.

If you google the word "the", you will get over 5.6 billion hits. The first one: The Onion. Nice positioning, no? If only the link was current.

[Update] Someone must have google-bombed the White House. It's now the top link for "the" google searches.

Notwithstanding over 4,000 google hits, there is no such thing as a baby butterfly.

A ton of heart, as in, "these guys have a ton of heart," is just an expression. The heart of the largest animal on the planet, the blue whale, generally weighs only about three quarters of a ton, though some think the largest may grow to be a ton.

Less than 66 years elapsed between Orville Wright's flight and the Apollo 11 moon landing.

The largest lake in the world is the salt-water Caspian Sea, at 143,244 square miles. Some -- mostly Iranians -- think it should be classified as an ocean, but it is not.

The eagle was the national symbol of Rome, the Austrian Empire and Nazi Germany. And the United States.

Few people have heard of Sharpsburg, but on a single day there in September 1862, the North and South found the battle of Antietam, and lost a combined 23,000 soldiers.

If Australia was not considered a continent, it would be the world's largest island, at 2.97 million square miles. As it stands, Greenland, at 810,810 square miles, is the world's largest island. It also has the oldest rocks, at 3.7 billion years.

Florida developer Henry Flagler is the man credited with this true observation: "A friendship founded on business is better than a business founded on friendship."

If Al Capone had handed you a business card, it probably would have said that he was a used furniture dealer.

There are at least as many bridges in your backyard as there are spanning the Amazon River.

The typical bikini top only provides sun protection of about SPF 5. A topless woman with a decent sunscreen is less likely to burn her breasts than a woman wearing a light bikini top.

How big does the mountain grow? The highest elevation on the planet is the top of Mount Everest, which is 29,035 feet above sea level. However, the tallest single mountain, base to tip, is Mauna Kea in Hawaii, which rises 32,000 feet from the ocean floor. And the farthest spot from the center of the Earth is the tip of Chimborazo in the Ecuadorian Andes.

An "alumna" is a female. More than one of them could be called "alumnae." An "alumnus" is a male. More than one of them would be called "alumni." The same rule would apply even if the group included a few alumnae.

The part of the animal that gives us catgut is the intestine. The animal that gives us catgut is the sheep.

The duck-billed platypus and two species of spiny anteaters are the only living examples of monotremes. Don't go searching for the navel on a monotreme. You won't find one. That's what makes them unique among mammals.

June 01, 2004

The world's highest bridge has just been completed in France. Look at the picture. Can you tell why they needed to make the bridge this high or this long, other than, because they can?

Further proof that protesters are idiots: Gay activists are furious that certain churches, in this case, the Roman Catholic Church, do not accept that gay sex is okay. "Who is the church to say who can and cannot get communion?" said Greg Van Hyfte, 27, carrying a rainbow-hued umbrella. Um, the church?

Van Hyfte's comment may have been the single stupidest thing I ever heard come out of the mouth of a protester. Look, guy, the Old Testament and New Testament alike condemn gay sex. Feel free to disagree, but go elsewhere if you do.

If your church teaches something you vehemently disagree with, why would you want to be part of that church anyway? If my church said I was doing something that was going to send me to hell, I would either change my behavior or change which church I attended. I wouldn't march into the church and tell them they have to change their minds about what they believe God taught them.

If you don't want to give up bacon, shrimp, gumbo or lobster, don't join a Jewish Orthodox synagogue. They will cast you out. If you want to carve statues of God and eat heartily during Ramadan, don't join a mosque. They might kill you. And if you want to have lots and lots of sex with men just like you and pray with a bunch of like-minded folk, head down the road to the nearest liberal non-denominational Christian church, because the Catholic Church isn't going to give you communion. Or maybe you can find a church run by one of those excommunicated priests.

Research published by the National Bureau of Economic Research in the United States has found a strong link between people's happiness and the amount of sex they have. No kidding? That is almost as shocking as the story that said that tall men had a better chance of success in basketball. But before you start running out to turn tricks or buy daily sessions with a hooker, you should read the rest of the story. "People who have paid for sex are considerably less happy than others," and "the more sexual partners one has (several respondents to the survey reported more than 100 in the past year), the unhappier."

Sports Illustrated has a 50th anniversary celebration going on which includes the sale of "classic covers." The six most popular sellers right now are: a '56 Mickey Mantle, the 1980 US Hockey gold medal team, '87's Celtic Pride cover, USC's 2004 AP championship, this year's Patriots cover and the most recent swimsuit issue.

If you follow the S.I. cover curse, you might have noticed the June 8, 1987 date of that Celtic Pride cover. Then, as now, S.I. was published several days before the cover date. Thus, this was the current cover on June 6, 1987 when Magic's "baby skyhook" propelled the Lakers to victory at the Boston Garden in game four of the finals. Bird's buzzer shot bounced off the back of the rim and the Lakers went on to win the NBA Championship. In fact, that '87 Laker team is currently a 68% to 32% leader in NBA.com's poll to determine the greatest NBA team of all time.

LSU fans will disagree, but the rest of the nation may have noticed that, for the second year in a row, college football crowned the same champion at the end of the year that would have been crowned had the NCAA used the boxing way of naming a champion.

The 2001 season champion was Miami. If football was like boxing, Miami would have lost its title when it lost its next game. The next loss was to Ohio State in the Fiesta Bowl. The season ended. That made Ohio State the 2002 champion. In 2003, Ohio State would have lost its crown to Wisconsin. Wisconsin would have surrendered it to Purdue, which would have given it up to Michigan. USC then beat Michigan in the Rose Bowl. The season ended. That made USC the 2003 champion.